struck me. I conceived the possibility of rendering the incident
subordinate to the great enquiry which drank up all the currents of my
soul. I said, this man is arraigned of murder, and murder is the
master-key that wakes distemper in the mind of Mr. Falkland. I will
watch him without remission. I will trace all the mazes of his thought.
Surely at such a time his secret anguish must betray itself. Surely, if
it be not my own fault, I shall now be able to discover the state of his
plea before the tribunal of unerring justice.

I took my station in a manner most favourable to the object upon which
my mind was intent. I could perceive in Mr. Falkland's features, as he
entered, a strong reluctance to the business in which he was engaged;
but there was no possibility of retreating. His countenance was
embarrassed and anxious; he scarcely saw any body. The examination had
not proceeded far, before he chanced to turn his eye to the part of the
room where I was. It happened in this as in some preceding instances--we
exchanged a silent look, by which we told volumes to each other. Mr.
Falkland's complexion turned from red to pale, and from pale to red. I
perfectly understood his feelings, and would willingly have withdrawn
myself. But it was impossible; my passions were too deeply engaged; I
was rooted to the spot; though my own life, that of my master, or almost
of a whole nation had been at stake, I had no power to change my
position.

The first surprise however having subsided, Mr. Falkland assumed a look
of determined constancy, and even seemed to increase in self-possession
much beyond what could have been expected from his first entrance. This
he could probably have maintained, had it not been that the scene,
instead of being permanent, was in some sort perpetually changing. The
man who was brought before him was vehemently accused by the brother of